


i'll be home for christmas

by femmelinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: !!!!, ????apparently????, Also Liam is only mentioned lmao, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Harry is in this for like 2 seconds, M/M, Non AU, Ok lots of details, Tattoos, also, but obv I've changed some details
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:19:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmelinson/pseuds/femmelinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We’re doing this full-out, no half-arsing it,” he declares, impatiently yanking at the tangled wires and making them that much worse in the process. Zayn’s again struck with the adorableness of it all, as he crouches to help Niall. “It’s Christmas and I’m here to give you the best Christmas you’ve ever had.”</p><p>Or: the one where Zayn's not really feeling Christmas but he's 100% feeling Christmas with Niall</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll be home for christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starlinglou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlinglou/gifts).



> This started as Christmas fluff which turned into homemade tattoos which turned back into Christmas fluff idk guys Ziall does strange things to me w/e as long as Linda is happy, I am happy  
> Anyway enjoy and happy holidays, loves! x

It’s as Zayn’s sat drawing in the corner of the green room, casually singing along to Mariah Carey’s _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ that Niall gets the idea. He knows Christmas will be tricky this year, what with Zayn’s original plan to spend Christmas Eve with Perrie gone to shit since their split a few months earlier, and Niall’s inability to make it home to Ireland with the one day they have off. It's not like, proper work, just, appearances and little things. There just didn't seem to be a chance for him to sort out when he'd fly out of London. He'd come to terms with it already but still. It’s bullshit, he thinks, that they’re expected to just brush over his favourite holiday, right back to work by Boxing Day.

And Zayn’s been so quiet. Like, he always is. But it’s different now. His smile doesn’t do the same thing it used to when Niall pokes his chest or tickles his ears. He’s still Zayn but he’s not. Like a light burning out or something. It doesn’t seem right, especially not at this time of year.

Zayn’s voice is fading in and out casually between riffs and Niall sort of just listens and waits. It’s just the two of them sat at opposite ends of the room, Harry busy getting his hair done while Louis and Liam have fucked off somewhere to cause trouble, Niall expects. They're back on SNL tonight, first time in over a year. It's probably Niall's favourite thing they've had the chance to do, though he'll rarely admit that. It's the best atmosphere, the best vibe. Nerve-wracking and fun and ridiculous and perfect.

Niall pretends to check his twitter while Zayn effortlessly sings along like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He’s always been slightly in awe if not a little envious of Zayn’s ability to sing like it’s as simple as breathing.

“Zayn?” he starts when the song fades out.

Zayn looks up from under his lashes, a little disoriented-like, as if he’d forgotten Niall was there. “Yeah?”

“Could ya--,” Niall gestures to Zayn’s docked iPod which is now blaring out Micheal Buble’s _It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas_. It had been Harry’s idea to keep the Christmas music on backstage to “you know, get everyone in the spirit” as he’d put it.

Zayn gets the memo and reaches from where he’s perched on the couch to turn it down so it’s just echoing faintly around the room. He’s looking expectantly at Niall and tucking his pencil into his sketchbook.

“Do y’know what you’re doin’ for Christmas yet?” Niall asks, fully aware he’s beating around the bush with it. He knows it’s stupid to feel nervous, but it’s not every day you ask someone to spend Christmas with you.

“Was probably just gonna stay in London,” Zayn shrugs, like it’s no big deal. No big deal that he’s planning to spend Christmas alone in his flat in London.

Niall doesn’t let him get away with it. “Well y’can’t spend Christmas alone, mate.”

Zayn shrugs again, a sort of expressionless look on his face like this isn’t nearly as sad an idea for him as it is for Niall.

“Look, I can’t go back home cos of this shit schedule,” Niall continues, knowing Zayn already knows this from all the times Niall’s complained about it. “Why don’t we just, you know…” he’s gesturing stupidly between himself and Zayn, as if him uselessly pointing back and forth is supposed to suggest anything.

Zayn’s brows furrow until he gets it at which point they shoot straight up to his hairline.

“What, spend it together, like?” he offers a little dubiously, sparing Niall.

“Yes!” Niall beams then, spreading his arms like he’s felt confident about this idea all along.

Zayn looks for a moment like he’s unsure, thinks about it in his head-nodding, pursed lips kind of way, and shrugs yet again, this time a thin grin spreading across his face. “Sure, alright.”

“Yes, bro!” Niall exclaims, too loudly, too excited. Whatever. He thinks about trying to sort out a proper plan or something but thinks he might fair better just to leave it for now. Zayn’d said yes, that was enough. He’d expected it to be loads more complicated than that too. Then again, things always turn out easier with Zayn than he expects. Easy, like Zayn’s singing, like breathing. Or something.

“Excellent,” Niall just says quietly, more to himself, sitting back into the spinning chair and returning to his phone. Cool as a cucumber, if he does say so himself. Like a thousand million ideas of how he's gonna do this aren't flying around his mind.

Zayn watches Niall for a moment, grinning in spite of his seemingly perpetual shit mood, feeling the usual unexpected warmth Niall fills him with taking over. He goes back to doodling Niall sitting on the spinning chair, scratching in a Santa hat on the drawing-Niall’s head.

“Right, I can’t hear the music, my spirit is fading!” Harry announces before he even makes it through the door, stalking directly towards the docking station and turning _Jingle Bells_ up to full blast. Niall and Zayn groan in unison.

“Fuck, what d’you that for?” Niall whines, making a show of covering his ears until Harry turns it down a couple notches.

“I am appalled,” Harry shakes his head, settling himself next to Zayn on the couch, “at your lack of enthusiasm.”

Zayn just cocks an eyebrow and shifts his eyes to glance at Niall who’s laughing now, clearly finding Zayn and Harry’s juxtaposition hilarious. He gives in, and sings at top volume with Harry while Zayn rolls his eyes, a smile irresistibly pulling at the corners of his mouth in spite of himself.

The show is wicked, of course. At least Niall thinks so. It's always something different with SNL, always feels like they're re-introducing themselves. He thinks this feeling will never get old, that electrifying buzz he gets from a live audience on a show that’s older and more famous than he’ll ever be. He’s having more fun now than he can remember having in a while, energy bubbling through him on stage and offstage, that weird surreal weight of living of his dream coming down on him hard, manifested in this overflowing joy that he always manages to spread over everyone around him.

Niall’s still buzzing when they get off stage, hopping up onto Zayn’s back who catches him easily in a piggyback as they stumble into the green room, where _Feliz Navidad_ is now playing from Zayn’s forgotten iPod. There’s a flurry of noise around the room (laughter and costumes being slipped off) and Niall’s being flopped onto the couch, pulling Zayn down with him so they’re tangled up together, Niall wrapped resolutely around Zayn, singing loudly in perfect Spanish in his ear. Christmas with Niall might not be the worst thing in the world, he thinks.

***

It’s not that Zayn thinks Niall is bluffing or anything. It’s kind of all too familiar actually; Niall cooks up some heinous plan to cheer Zayn up whilst also never entirely expecting Zayn to be cheery for him. No pressure or anything, just, if Zayn wants to be happy, he’s got a Niall to get him there. And if it doesn’t work, that’s cool, too.

But he can already predict the tedious nature of it all. He knows Niall won’t expect him to go through the motions, or not wholeheartedly anyway. But still. He just wants to smoke and be alone. Maybe get a Skype in with his family who are currently on holiday in Mexico (Merry Christmas from Zayn). He’s got to allot time to feel sad these days. Can’t be in interviews or on stage or in rehearsals or when he’s at parties, like tonight.

Then again, it never takes much convincing from Niall to reschedule.

“Bro, have you quite finished?” Louis’s voice breaks through his reverie, too loud, as he holds his hand out for the spliff.

“Sorry, sorry,” Zayn says, taking one more hit before handing it over.

“Disrespect on the night before my birthday,” Louis shakes his head, takes a hit. “Disgusting,” he says on the exhale.

“My weed, bro,” Zayn reminds him.

“My house, bro,” is Louis’s genius response.

“Yeah, talking of that…,” Zayn peers behind him through the glass doors of the balcony and into the absolute destruction zone of a kitchen, the last few party attendees milling about in the living room.

Louis follows his gaze, sighs at the sight and takes another hit off the joint.

“Was a good party, though, wasn’t it?” Louis grins.

Zayn smirks back, the familiar irresistible happiness that’s partially due to the kush, partially due to Louis, washing over him. “Great one, bro.”

They have work early tomorrow, their last day. They'd barely just got back to London before they had to make a few stops about. Zayn hates it this year, hates how fucked over they’ve been by their team. He knows he’ll be dog tired tomorrow but he thinks he might be able to work a kip in before Niall comes by in the evening, at least.

“Wait, what time is it?” Louis says suddenly, digging into his pocket for his phone to check the time. His eyebrows raise.

“It would appear that I have been twenty-three for approximately four minutes already.”

“Bro!” Zayn drags it out, holding out his hand for Louis to clasp and fist bump, pulling him for a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re an old man,” Zayn laughs as they pull apart, snagging the join out of Louis’s hand in the process.

“I’ll have you know I take that very personally, Zayn.”

Zayn doesn’t quite have the energy to think up a witty response so he just laughs and takes a slow pull of the dying joint and hands it back to Louis to finish off. They’re quiet for a while, just listening to London below them and Niall and Harry singing _Uptown Funk_ from inside.

“So how are you, mate?” Louis asks finally, when the spliff’s done and he’s pocketed the roach. “Do you know what you’re doing for Christmas?”

Zayn thinks in any other context the questions might be unrelated.

“M’good, yeah,” Zayn lies, pretty easily at that. “Think Niall’s gonna come over.” He nods his head towards the doors, and the still-belting Niall inside.

Louis looks a little incredulous. “Seriously?”

Zayn just shrugs cos he knows exactly what Louis is going to say next.

“You’re asking for a repeat, bro.”

Zayn’s head falls backs, and he’s so tired then. Cos there it is. That stupid reminder.

“Things just happen sometimes you know,” they’d said. That’s how it had always been with Niall, on the last tour, and the one before that. Yeah, things just happen sometimes, but spending every spare second of his days either on the phone with Perrie or making out with Niall had sort of started to mess with his head. He doesn’t wanna point fingers or anything, because it had been just as much his fault as anyone’s, but he’d be lying if he said the whole thing hadn’t at least partially influenced him calling off his engagement. He’s only ever told Louis that.

He still loves Niall, and Niall still loves him, but that’s always been true. And for all the fucked up shit that goes on between them, all the boys, it would have been ludicrous to let any of it disrupt their…friendship.

“Trust me, I’m really not,” Zayn promises Louis, forcing his eyes to actually _look_ at him when he says it.

“He’s a catch, mate, don’t get me wrong,” Louis grins, directing Zayn’s intent gaze inside to Niall who’s somehow managed to form a two man grind-line with Harry.

_Don’t believe me just watch, don’t believe me just watch_

“Yeah well,” Zayn starts but doesn’t finish, because yeah, Niall is kind of a catch and fuck if he doesn’t kind of want a repeat.

***

It doesn’t take long for Zayn to decide that he’s excited to have Niall over. He’s thinking it’s got something to do with the fact that he’d been counting so much on this being the worst Christmas ever, just cooped up alone in his flat, all the while wishing he could rewind to last year.  But now, he thinks, as he’s putting the final touches on making his flat presentable for human life, now he’s got the brightest fucking ray of sunshine on God’s good Earth to spend Christmas with and the whole thing feels so much less like a burden.

He’s got no decorations up, only a small fire burning and Michael Buble’s Christmas album humming through his sound system. Some Christmas Eve. He hopes it’s enough.

A half hour later, when Niall’s rapping on his door with ridiculous reindeer ears on his head, a massive suitcase under one arm and a miniature Christmas tree under the other, it’s clear to Zayn that, no, it definitely isn’t enough.

“You’re lucky they call me the elf of the Isles because this is just not festive enough,” Niall chides after they’ve said their hellos, assessing the blank walls and tree-less room. He’s brushing snow out of his hair and onto Zayn’s floor, slipping his boots off and leaving them haphazardly by Zayn’s at the door. Zayn likes this thing Niall does, treats Zayn’s spaces like he lives there. Like it’s as much his flat as it is Zayn’s. He watches Niall place the mini tree he’d somehow managed to lug across town onto Zayn’s coffee table, places his hands on his hips like he’s suddenly the Christmas expert.

“Niall, I don’t think anyone’s ever called you that,” Zayn sighs strolling over to the tiny tree and fiddling with the plastic bristles, containing just how adorable he’s finding this. Niall, with his cheeks all red from the cool air outside, donned in one of his many tacky Christmas sweaters, hands still on his hips like he’s waiting for Zayn to thank him for descending from the heavens and bestowing his holiday expertise upon him.

“I call me that,” Niall says, reaching over the tiny tree for a quick beep beep boop as he slides past Zayn to the admittedly massive suitcase he’s brought with him. “Least the music’s good,” he’s saying as he walks away to the beat of _Holly Jolly Christmas_.

Zayn’s still grinning from the feeling of the Niall’s touch on his torso, watches as he bends to unzip the suitcase. Zayn can just see an _unhealthy_ amount of shiny red and green decorations spill out, everything from tinsel to fairy lights.

“Fucking hell, Ni,” Zayn laughs, cautiously following behind Niall.

“We’re doing this full-out, no half-arsing it,” he declares, impatiently yanking at the tangled wires and making them that much worse in the process. Zayn’s again struck with the adorableness of it all, as he crouches to help Niall. “It’s Christmas and I’m here to give you the best Christmas you’ve ever had.”

Zayn can’t help but feel an overpowering gratitude for Niall then. His positivity doesn’t feel nearly as tedious as Zayn had expected, in fact he’s already starting to think this was the best idea Niall’s ever had. He’s only realizing now just how much he’d needed this. How much he’d needed Niall.

“And put this on,” Niall demands once they’ve sorted out the fairy lights, yanking a bright red woolen jumper from under the pile of decorations and chucking it at Zayn.

“Are you serious?” Zayn just stares at Niall, clutching the horrible sweater to his chest.

“Zayn,” Niall says warningly, wrapping the fairy lights around his neck, and raising his eyebrows at Zayn.

Zayn takes the hint and pulls the jumper over his t-shirt, put at ease only by the look of pure delight that’s spread across Niall’s face once his head is free. Zayn makes a quick show of spreading his arms and jazz-hands-ing for Niall’s benefit. It works; Niall’s booming laugh fills Zayn’s living room and Zayn has this cheesey-ass thought that they hardly need fairy lights to brighten the room, not with Niall here. Tries to let that thought linger.

“Oh, also,” Niall’s saying as he begins searching the room for a free plug. “Somewhere in there is cookie dough,” he gestures to the overflowing suitcase lying open on the floor. “Ate half of it on me way over but we could probably make what’s left.”

Zayn just smiles and shakes his head, begins rummaging through the suitcase for the half-eaten batch of cookie dough. It’s as he’s digging through the endless sea of colour that he spots the blue box with a tag reading “Z”. He stops for a moment to assess it, turning it over a couple times in his hand. It’s sort of heavy but not, and Zayn thinks he can hear pieces moving around inside. He quickly puts it out of his mind, pretends he never saw it as he searches a little faster for the cookie dough, which he soon finds in a Tupperware under some nutcracker figurines. It’s then that the guilt slowly starts to creep up on him; he hadn’t even thought to get a present for Niall. They’ve not really done presents for a few years now.

“This it, mate?” Zayn asks, holding up the Tupperware, looking around the room to see that Niall’s already strung fairy lights over the mantle, a strip of tape in his mouth and his arms tangled above his head as he tries to reach the perfect spot along the wall.

“Yeah,” he says, peering over his shoulder. “Give me a hand, will ya?”

Zayn ducks into the kitchen to place the Tupperware on the counter before returning to Niall, who’s sort of managed to get himself completely tangled up in fairy lights now. Zayn laughs because he can’t help but feel like Niall looks like some sort of come-to-life Christmas tree.

“Shove off,” Niall laughs, twisting round to try and free himself and Zayn just laughs harder. He’s reaching to try and untangle Niall but Niall keeps moving, making it progressively worse.

“Hold on, stop moving for a sec,” Zayn commands lightly till finally Niall relaxes, letting Zayn carefully hook his fingers around the wires and slowly but surely detach Niall from their grasp. His hands settle on Niall’s shoulders, smiling in that silly-happy way that Niall makes him do.

Before Zayn can move his hands, Niall places his on Zayn’s shoulders in turn, stating, “Cookies.”

Zayn nods, salutes and disappears into the kitchen.

***

“Best Christmas memory of your life?” Niall asks an hour later, when he’s casually resting his head on Zayn’s lap, splayed out on the couch by the fire.

“You sound like an interviewer.”

“Answer the question, please,” Niall says, all mock-demanding like.

Niall had this brilliant idea to watch _The Grinch_ while they waited for the cookies to finish baking. He'd barely had time for an effective kip so Zayn had kind of been starting to doze off, contenting himself with the thought that if real life were the Grinch, Niall would easily be Cindy Lou. Or maybe the reindeer dog, Zayn can’t remember its name. Rex? Max? Well, yeah, that would be Niall. Obliviously happy and festive and cute and shit.

Zayn’s fingers are toying lazily in Niall’s hair and he’s all consumed by his flat smelling like gingerbread and Niall.

“Er…” Zayn thinks it over, his eyes slowly opening as he lets his hand just rest on Niall’s hair, glancing around the room at the absolute mess his flat’s become since Niall’d finished decorating. It’s the most colourful he’s seen the living room in a long time. Zayn’s reminded of that scene in _Elf_ , or something, like this is simultaneously the messiest and happiest his flat has ever seemed.

He wants to say last year, when he’d spent the day with his family and Perrie, just mucking about Yorkshire like he was a kid again. Only, a kid who was able to get his mother and sisters matching Tiffany bracelets, among other things. Zayn thinks he’s in love with that feeling, of making his family happy. Thinks he hates what he’s feeling now, so nostalgic and sick. Like he’s missing so much. He focuses on Niall’s hair between his fingertips and lies.

“One year my mum surprised us all with a trip to Disney World, that was a good one.”

Niall hums, bobs his head to the Who’s on screen singing _Welcome Christmas_. “That’d be sick, yeah.”

They’re silent for a while, Zayn sipping slowly at the cocoa and Baileys that Niall’s made for them both (“Irish cream at Christmas, Zayn! Get it?”). Zayn doesn’t want to think about lying to Niall, doesn’t want to think that Niall probably knows he’s lying. So instead he thinks about the blue box tucked away in Niall’s suitcase somewhere, lets his mind wander as he imagines what Niall might have gotten for him. The same feeling of guilt appears again, but it’s so muddled by thoughts of new books and art supplies or whatever else Niall might have thought up that he can’t fully focus on it.

“This is my favourite year,” Niall says, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head up further into Zayn’s lap to look up at him and smile so wide Zayn thinks he’ll go blind.

“Don’t take the piss,” Zayn laughs, though he already has a feeling Niall’s not joking.

“I mean it!” Niall’s sitting up now and Zayn instantly kind of misses Niall’s hair in his hands and his head in his lap. He watches Niall sit back on his knees, watches him start counting off on his fingers. “We made cookies, right?”- one finger- “We decorated the flat,”-another finger- “we had hot chocolate and Bailey’s, and!” Niall fishes into his pocket for his phone, clicking it to life and displaying the home screen to Zayn. “It’s only 9 o’ clock. We haven’t even done Santa Tracker yet!”

“What’s Santa Tracker?” Zayn asks dumbly, glancing between the time on Niall’s phone and Niall’s hilariously giddy face. Frankly Zayn already feels sleepy, like he’d be perfectly content falling asleep right there with Niall on the couch. But he doesn’t want _this_ to end either, this adorable Niall who’s fishing out his laptop and sitting hip-to-hip with Zayn on the couch now, pulling up some website Zayn’s never heard of to track fucking _Santa_.

Zayn thinks he likes the warmth of Niall’s hip bone on his more anyway.

“Aw, he’s in South America, we got loads of time,” Niall says, pointing to the little Santa floating about the virtual map on screen.

“You know, Niall, I think we’d have loads of time either way,” Zayn grins. “Seeing as Santa’s not real and all.”

Luckily Niall’s apparent offense at Zayn’s disbelief in Santa Claus doesn’t last long, as the oven’s suddenly beeping and Niall is instantly distracted.

“Cookies!” he near-shouts, throws his arms up like they’re in the middle of a gig and Zayn’s an unimpressed audience he’s trying to bring to life.

He’s up and running to the kitchen before Zayn can even get a line in, he’s just sat there on the couch with Santa Tracker wide open, watching as the tiny virtual Santa begins his flight across the Atlantic. He leaves the laptop there, with the tracker still open and follows Niall into the kitchen, taking his mug of cocoa with him.

“Plates, plates, plates…,” Niall is muttering when Zayn appears. Zayn thinks about helping him out, decides leaning against the counter and sipping cocoa and Bailey’s is the better option, and just watches Niall instead. Just watches as he reaches on his tip-toes for a plate, watches his sweater ride up his side a little, showing off the pale skin underneath. Watches him pull the cookie tray from the oven with his sleeve over his hand. He’s still got those damn reindeer ears on his head and Zayn’s, like, blushing at how shamelessly he’s gazing.

He’s vaguely aware of _Santa Baby_ playing through his sound system. It doesn’t help.

“Let them cool, mate,” Zayn advises before Niall tries to poke the hot cookies off the tray with his bare hands.

“Not that patient, Zayn,” Niall replies flatly.

Zayn chuckles at his tone, shrugs and says, “Suit yourself” as Niall pries at the hot tray uselessly. They smell amazing, to be honest. Gingerbread. Zayn didn’t have any cookie cutters so Niall had tried to shape them with a knife instead. They’d come out a bit wonky but for all intents and purposes looked like gingerbread men.

“You know what?” Niall says after a minute of burning his fingers on the quasi-gingerbread men. “Think I’ll just mix myself another drink.”

“Right, right,” Zayn laughs, taking another sip of his cocoa in a ‘none-of-my-business’ sort of way.

***

Once Niall decides are an appropriate level of cool, and Zayn’s helped him sort them onto plates, he’s right back to the living room and Zayn is making himself a cup of tea instead of cocoa; the sugar and liquor had sort of started to give a headache.

“Zayn, Zayn, look!” Niall calls around a mouthful of cookie from the living room, where he’s sat staring at the Santa Tracker.

Zayn saunters over from the kitchen to lean over the couch where Niall is overdramatically bouncing with glee, laptop resting on his knees.

“Santa’s in Maaaanchester!” he sings. “Almost time for bed, then.” Niall cranes his neck to look up at Zayn and grin, like he’s reminding him that he’s putting this on, doing all he can to make sure Zayn is happy and festive and definitely not thinking about sad, non-Santa stuff. “What do ya reckon?”

“I could sleep, yeah,” Zayn grins back, feeling the hot tea seeping through him, mixing up strangely with the leftover alcohol and oncoming fatigue. It’s harder and harder not to just play along with Niall at this point. What else is new?

“Jesus, Zayn, if I’d have known you’d be that easy to get into bed, I’d have pretended to believe in Santa a long time ago,” Niall is saying around a smirk as he shuts the laptop and turns to sit on his knees and face Zayn.

Zayn blushes, finds himself staring at the arm of the couch instead of Niall, grinning in spite of himself. “Yeah, well, Santa really turns me on, you know,” he tries.

Not for the first time that night, Niall’s laugh takes over the room and Zayn can look at him again. Zayn likes Niall like this; when it’s all genuine laughter and sexual innuendo, assumed bed sharing and comfortable proximity. Niall hops over the back of couch around Zayn, taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom.

_You’re asking for a repeat, bro_

***

“You can talk about it, if you want,” Niall offers once they’re lying side by side in Zayn’s stupidly large bed. It had made sense to have a King at the time, just feels lonely these days.

Zayn feels like rolling his eyes, because it’s so typical _Niall_ to wait till they’re all wrapped up in bed with the lights off to ask the sad questions. Like a slumber party or some shit. Then again, he knows none of the other boys would ever do that, knows Niall’s only asking because he knows Zayn’s been aching with it for months now.

He doesn’t really wanna talk about it. He kinda does.

“Just miss her, like,” Zayn says around a sigh, rolling onto his side to face Niall. Niall copies him so they’re face to face. “Miss when shit made sense.”

Zayn simultaneously waits and doesn’t wait for Niall to say something. This is old news; Niall won’t respond till he’s certain Zayn’s said all he’s had to say.

“Like, it didn’t make any sense. But it did? Even whatever we were doing on tour. And then last year, we were in Yorkshire and it all just felt, I dunno, like home or something.” Zayn’s not one for rambling but it feels like he is now. More than a few useless words and it feels like rambling these days. He is talking some shit anyway, knows it makes no sense. He shuts up.

Niall nods. “You don’t feel at home anymore?” he asks.

Zayn thinks about that. He does, sort of. With Niall, with the lads. Tonight. “Maybe, like, I moved homes,” he says.

Niall grins. “Nice.”

“It’s a metaphor, Ni.”

“Good one, too.”

“Thanks.”

Zayn feels the conversation slipping away from him, feels his eyes getting heavy as sleep slowly begins to take over him. But Niall’s just sort of looking at him with this post-smile seriousness and Zayn feels for some reason like he’s not finished with him yet.

“Sorry if I fucked anything up,” he says.

Zayn sighs and rolls back onto his back, the weight of it coming down on him and forcing him further into the bed. His eyes do shut now, not from sleep just from, like, not wanting to be present.

“Wasn’t your fault,” Zayn assures him. It doesn’t sound convincing even when he says it out loud, but it’s not really a lie, either. “It wasn’t your fault,” he says again, forcing his eyes open to say it properly to his face.

Niall just nods and he’s smiling a little but it seems all out of place. Zayn’s eyes close again and this time sleep is definitely the culprit.

He’s somewhat conscious of Niall nudging in closer to him, can just feel Niall’s hair on his neck before he’s drifting away.

***

“Zayn,” he hears Niall whisper after what feels like ten minutes of sleep. “Zayn, wake up.”

Zayn shifts to the sound of Niall’s voice, eyes still closed. Awake, but only just.

“It’s midnight, Zayn. Happy Christmas.” Niall’s voice is close now, like he’s whispering right into Zayn’s ear. Zayn peaks through one eye, just cos he thinks he can’t miss Niall’s stupid-happy-Christmas face. Maybe he still has his reindeer ears on. But it’s not really what he expects. Niall’s just sort of half-smiling with his chin rested on Zayn’s shoulder, the back of his head lit up by the flashing red of the alarm clock behind him reading _12:01am_.

“Alright?” he asks, smirk growing ever wider as Zayn’s eyes struggle to open fully.

“Shut up,” Zayn murmurs before he cranes his neck to press his lips against Niall’s, just feather light, mostly cos it’s all he can manage. His eyes are drifting shut again but Niall’s laughing against his mouth and trying to kiss him back in earnest. It’s lazy and a little messy but Zayn’ll take what he can get. He likes how easy it feels, how this seems like the only option. Of course he was gonna kiss Niall, when Niall won’t shut up about Christmas and Santa and fairy lights and cookies and Irish cream and _fucking hell_ is that Niall’s tongue licking into his mouth? Zayn feels himself come to life for one fleeting moment, kissing Niall back with all his tired body has in him, pushing his hips down into Niall’s, breathing in Niall. All gingerbread and Bailey’s. It’s been so fucking long…

But then Zayn can’t keep his eyes open and it’s over almost before it started. He’s still kissing Niall but he barely knows it. Like a dream or something. They kiss lazily like that until Zayn is asleep again, mouth to mouth and chest to chest with a breathlessly chuckling Niall.

***

The next time Zayn wakes up it’s six o’ clock in the bloody morning and he’s got his cheek pressed against Niall’s collarbone.  He doesn’t move. Just wiggles in closer to the comfortable position. He’s conscious just long enough to feel the rise and fall of Niall’s chest and to open his eyes just briefly to watch Niall’s slack face in the light of the alarm clock. He thinks about his mouth against his. Thinks about his hands in hair. Thinks about how long he’s been wanting it to happen like that again.

He’s still thinking about that as his breaths start to match Niall’s and he drifts off to sleep again.

***

Suddenly it’s 10:00am and the bed is bouncing and Zayn’s face is back on his pillow. What a loss.

“Wakey, wakey, Zayney!” he hears Niall’s voice chanting, close and far at the same time. “Santa came!”

Zayn’s brows furrow in spite of his fatigue, as he remembers the blue box. Guilt settles in his stomach once again and he pulls his sheets up over his head, groaning involuntarily. He really hadn’t thought this through. And now Niall was gonna be disappointed in him. After all Niall had done for him in the past few days too. Fuck.

“Zaaaaaaayn,” Niall sings, gently tugging at the sheets. Zayn feels the bed sink in a bit as Niall crawls up next to him. “I sort of already saw my present but I’ll pretend to be surprised if you want.”

 _That_ wakes Zayn up pretty fast.

“You _what_?”

He’s sitting up now, staring in shock at Niall sat cross legged beside him on the bed. He’s blushing a bit, but can’t seem to keep a grin off his face. He’s replaced his reindeer ears from the night before with a Santa hat and Zayn’s completely thrown off by _everything_ at that moment.

“Sorry, mate, I just wanted to check out the graffiti room, I didn’t think…,” he trails off, glances up at Zayn from under his lashes and shrugs.

Zayn just stares at him now, completely dumbstruck. What had Niall seen in his graffiti room that would constitute a gift? It’s not like Zayn’s putting his artwork down or anything, he just can’t seem to recall anything particularly worthy of being a Christmas present for Niall.

“Anyway, c’mon,” Niall shrugs before Zayn can really think about. He bounds off the bed, gives Zayn a quick beep beep boop before reaching for his arm and pulling him to his feet a little callously. Much to Niall’s apparent appreciation, Zayn sort of groan-laughs, lets Niall hold his hand until he’s lead him into the living room where virtually nothing’s changed, but for the tiny blue box now sitting under the miniature tree.

“Told ya Santa came!” Niall laughs, nudging his shoulder against Zayn’s till Zayn’s smiling again, this time unwaveringly earnest. “You want coffee?” he asks, pressing a questioning hand to Zayn’s chest.

“Sick, yeah,” Zayn replies, tapping Niall’s hand on his chest dismissively as he trudges over to the tiny tree, Niall bounding off to the kitchen and returning moments later with Zayn’s usual black coffee. As if he’d already had it prepared. Zayn thinks he might burst with appreciation for Niall.

“Sleep alright?” Niall asks when they’re both sitting on the couch in front of the little tree. Zayn’s suddenly aware that Niall’s got Christmas music playing already, _Silver Bells_.

“Good, yeah,” Zayn nods, taking a blissful sip of coffee as Niall scoots a little closer to him on the couch. Zayn worries for a second that he’s trying to suggest something about the night before, but also knows it’s not like Niall to linger on stuff like that. It’s not really anything new. And Zayn had been half asleep anyway. Things happen sometimes.

“Me too, I love your bed.”

“You’re welcome in it anytime,” Zayn says without really thinking it over. He chances a glance at Niall and he’s grinning so Zayn grins back, the same lopsided, too-happy smirk that Niall is famous for bringing out in him.

“Do you want your present now, or…,” Niall asks, reaching for the blue box like he’s really, really hoping Zayn says yes.

How could he deny him? “Alright, sure,” Zayn sighs. He’s giddy again, imagining what on Earth Niall had come up with. He pushes any guilt away, lets himself be excited for whatever Niall’s thought up for him. Overhead, the music shifts to _Winter Wonderland_.

“Okay so, I was just sort of lookin’ online for something to get you, and I couldn’t really think what would be good, cos like, I know you’ve got loads of sick books and art and music stuff. I thought about graffiti stuff but you’ve got so much so I thought this would be--,” Niall stops himself, hands the box to Zayn and shrugs. “Dunno, maybe you’ve already got one. But I thought it’d be good.”

Zayn places his mug on the coffee table, takes the blue box from Niall and carefully starts to unravel the wrapping.

“Now you can do them at home or whenever you want, you know?” Niall’s saying as Zayn pulls the lid off the blue box and observes the contraption inside. He’s confused by Niall’s rambling until he realizes what it is.

The first thing Zayn sees is that it’s sort of copper-coloured, complicated and mechanical-looking. It’s not until he starts fiddling carefully with it between his fingers that he finds the small engraving on the side: _ZM_. His breath catches just a little as a smile spreads across his face and he can feel his ears and neck flushing with warmth. There’s three small ink--cartridges?--(black, blue, and red) in the box and some other bits and pieces too but Zayn can barely acknowledge them.

“Ni…,” he starts, shaking his head, just staring down at the engraving on the tattoo machine.

“Ahhh, don’t get all mushy, it’s the least I could do,” Niall chides, leaning back into the couch. Zayn can tell he’s proud of himself, though. He’s all crossed-arms and tight grins and Zayn knows he’s loving this.

Partly just to get a reaction out of him, Zayn leans over and presses a sloppy kiss to Niall’s cheek. It works; his façade instantly breaks and he’s laughing, involuntarily tucking his head into Zayn’s shoulder in response, just nuzzling in till Zayn’s laughing too and they’re just sort of cuddling there like that. Zayn wants to say thank you but he can’t quite form the words. So he just wraps his free arm around Niall and holds him there, thinks Niall gets the idea. It’s his favourite thing about Niall; he doesn’t have to _speak_ so much.

It’s cozy; they’re both still dressed in their silly Christmas sweaters from the night before and Zayn finds himself tracing the fabric on Niall’s arm, trying to memorize the colour so he recreate it later.

“I tried to use one once,” Zayn says eventually.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, like, I’m pretty sure you need a license, but my mate up north used to do it all the time and Louis tried once in America….” Zayn feels like he’s talking too much but Niall isn’t stopping him, just lets Zayn continue to run his fingers along his arm and listens.

“Are you any good at it?” Niall asks when Zayn's been silent for a few seconds.

Zayn shrugs under Niall’s arm. “M’alright. I’ll have to practice.”

“Maybe you could—,”

Niall stops midsentence like he's nervous or something and Zayn pulls back to assess his face.

“What?” Zayn presses.

Niall shrugs, purses his lips and Zayn can tell he's feigning nonchalance. “You could do me.”

Zayn smiles, wide. “What?” he says again, this time like a breathy laugh.

Niall just shrugs again. “You need practice, yeah? Do me.”

“You’re serious?"

Niall shrugs yet again and detangles himself from Zayn to sit back and gaze at him with an almost devilish grin.

"Wait, hold on," Zayn says, realizing what Niall's implying. "Right now? Are you mad?"

"Why not? It can be like, a Christmas present."

Zayn's looking up at Niall disbelievingly, any trace of a smile gone now, and they sort of just glance at Zayn’s hand still clasping the new tattoo machine. But Niall's still grinning and Zayn's thinking this is mental, impossible, that there's no possible way this is gonna work, and what the _fuck_ kind of Christmas morning consists of dragging a needle across your best mate's skin? But Niall again doesn't appear to be bluffing and he's still watching Zayn, waiting for the word "go" from him as he often does. How could he deny him, Zayn thinks again.

***

“Right, it’s gotta be sterile,” Zayn’s saying as he fishes through the blue box which he realizes now also has a set of needles, a foot pedal and surgical gloves alongside the three ink cartridges. Where the bloody hell had Niall got all this shit? “Er, hold on, I have rubbing alcohol in the toilet.”

“Fucking hell,” he hears Niall say as he darts down the hall to grab cotton swabs and rubbing alcohol from the bathroom. He grabs pain medication while he’s there too, you know, just in case.

He’s about to head straight back to the squirming Niall sitting in his living room but the slightly ajar door to his graffiti room stops him. Maybe he should just check out what Niall saw…

He peaks in, switches the light on and does a quick once-over. It’s the most colourful room in the flat, even more so than Niall’s Christmas extravaganza in the living room. Zayn’s inspecting the walls and the canvases, some pieces half-finished, some finished but complete shit and one—

Oh _fuck_.

He shuts the light off, holding back a gasp as he realizes what Niall had been referring to. It was meant to be a joke, he hadn’t really intended Niall to see it. At least not until it was fully complete or like, until he had the opportunity to explain it.

Niall’s voice suddenly breaks his moment of panic. “Hurry up, will ya?” he calls from the living room. “Before I change my mind or something.”

Zayn takes a deep breath, laughs breathily at the ridiculousness of _all_ of this and joins Niall (who’s starting to look immensely nervous now) on the couch. For now, he puts the graffiti room out of his mind and focuses on Niall.

“Right, what are we doing?” he asks when he rejoins Niall. He speaks as calmly as he can muster, for his sake and Niall’s.

Niall puts on a brave face then, his voice shakey but certain. “Right, something hidden. Like, here maybe?” He points to his hip bone, raising his eyebrows at Zayn as if asking his approval.

“We can definitely do that,” Zayn nods, an assuring thing that seems to relax Niall. “D’you want a screw?” Zayn suggests.

“I was thinking about that but maybe something Irish, you know? Since it’s my first one, I don’t know. Like a clover or…,” Niall trails off, his confidence wavering at the end. Zayn gets it, remembers that feeling he’d had when he’d tried to explain his first few tattoos to artists. Everything sounds stupid and naive coming out of your mouth. Eventually you realize no one’s really judging you, they just wanna make you happy.

“Yeah, I like that,” Zayn smiles, doing his best to put Niall at ease, knows it’s his job now to make sure Niall knows all he wants to do is make _him_ happy.

It’s not like Zayn’s an expert at this or anything. But he’s fucked around with tattoo guns before, knows his way around the process from a few experimental nights. A tiny clover isn’t too far out of his skill-set.

“It’ll just be black, is that cool?” he asks, placing a hand on Niall’s shoulder comfortingly.

Niall just nods, an uncertain grin starting to pull at the corners of his mouth.

“Maybe we should, like, do it the toilet,” Zayn suggests, taking in the state of the messy living room, knowing it probably wouldn’t be terrible to do it there but you know, better safe than sorry and all.

“Right, let’s do it,” is Niall’s determined response, as he pats Zayn’s knee and confidently leads the way down the hall.

***

Okay, this was the stupidest idea they’ve ever had, Niall thinks. Zayn’s been super kosher about the whole thing, going so far as to set up a makeshift hospital-type bed (which is ultimately just his kitchen table covered in wax paper) but still. He probably should have assumed Zayn would want to break in his present and Niall knows he’d offered himself up as guinea pig but part of him hadn’t really expected Zayn to say yes. Admittedly he’s wanted to do this for a while, and he trusts Zayn and all. This is just…not really how he saw this Christmas morning going.

Then again, it sort of makes sense for them.

“Right, let me just…,” Zayn is murmuring while he carefully finishes setting up the little gun so it’s wired into the wall and some little foot attachment Niall remembers coming with it. He’d seriously just pulled some strings and put a shit ton of money on getting everything right, he really has no idea what he even bought if he’s being honest.

“I’m gonna, like, draw it first, yeah? Just with sharpie, like….” Zayn doesn’t really wait for Niall to respond, like he’s in the zone now or whatever. Niall feels him lift the hem of sweater, feels the cold of the alcohol on his skin. Niall watches Zayn from the corner of his eye, watches the focus in his eyes, his mouth slightly open. He doesn’t forget kissing him, but he doesn’t really wanna talk about it either. Actually, that’s the first time he’s really thought about it all morning, staring at his mouth just now. It’s not really something they have to talk about, never really has been. Just sort of happens sometimes. Natural, like Zayn’s singing, like breathing. It had been a while though…first time since he’d called off the engagement…

“Sorry if it tickles,” Zayn is saying as he carefully draws the clover onto Niall’s hip bone. It doesn’t take long but Niall still has to work not to squirm under the pen tip. He thinks about Zayn’s steadying hands on his stomach to keep him centered.

“Right, how does that look?” Zayn asks and Niall sits up onto his elbows to see. It’s cute, just bigger than a guitar pick. He smirks in spite of his panic.

“Looks good,” he says, feeling a twinge of excitement now.

“Sick,” Zayn smiles, as he reaches behind him to steady the gun between his gloved hand. “So it’s the hard bit now.”

“Fuck,” Niall groans, the thrill instantly interrupted by fear as he flops back down on the table.

Niall doesn’t really know the process or anything, but Zayn seems to know what he’s doing, as he dips the end of the gun in the black ink, leans over Niall’s hip and takes a deep breath.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Jesus Christ,” is Niall’s reply as he shuts his eyes tight and crosses his arms over his forehead.

“Don’t be afraid,” Zayn says easily as he places a hand on Niall’s exposed belly to steady himself before he touches the gun to Niall’s hip.

The pain isn’t that bad, Niall thinks. It feels like a bee sting or something. Only a continuous bee sting that goes on for ten minutes. It feels like it’s getting worse instead of getting better as time goes on and Niall’s trying to determine just by feeling how much he thinks is left. Was that the second leaf or the third? How long had _The Christmas Song_ been playing from the living room? And _fucking hell_ , he thinks, as it goes on and on, how did Zayn _do_ this all the time? No sane human would do this more than once, no one, not ever in their right mind would _ever_ —

“ _Zayn_ ,” Niall chokes out after a few minutes. He’d wanted to endure it but, fuck.

Zayn’s hands immediately stop moving. “Do you need a break, babe?”

Niall nods, his arms still wrapped resolutely around his head.

“There’s only a little bit left,” Zayn says quietly. “Promise.”

“Kay, do it. But like, Zayn,” Niall moves his arms, looks up at Zayn in a way he knows must feel intense but he can’t help it. “Can you sing or something?”

“What?” Zayn laughs.

“It’s soothing, alright?”

Zayn shakes his head. “You’re mental. Are you ready?”

Niall nods again, returns to arm-cocoon and stiffens. Zayn still shaking his head as he leans back into Niall’s hip.

And of course he sings. Just quietly, just enough not to distract from his work. He can just faintly hear the music from the living room and the key’s not really right for him but he sings along anyway.

_Though it’s been said, many times, many ways  
Merry Christmas…to you_

“And…there…we…go,” Zayn grins with one final swipe of paper napkin across Niall’s skin to remove excess ink. It’s stingy, Niall thinks, and he’s sort of so mentally all over the place that just prying his arms away from his face feels like a feat. He doesn’t sit up just yet.

“Gimme a minute,” he tells Zayn, who’s inspecting his work, clearly pleased with himself. Niall waits for another song to end before he sits up on his elbows once more. Zayn is smiling at him and that comforts him some as he takes a peak down at the ink that’s now living under his skin.

It’s exactly like Zayn had drawn it, small, and just an outline. Niall pulls a bit at the red skin around it, and yup, it’s in there. Jesus. He hears himself curse under his breath and Zayn’s chuckling a bit, leaning over to hover his hands over the tiny clover too.

“Thought I was gonna mess this one bit up,” Zayn says, pointing to the fourth leaf. “You were sort of shaking, like.”

Zayn grins and bends down to place a feathery kiss on the skin beside the clover and Niall sighs. The gentle touch of Zayn’s lips reminds him that the tattoo still hurts, sort of an after-burn that won’t go away.

“Here,” Zayn says softly, and Niall watches him apply a thick layer of some lotion, before placing a make shift plaster of cellophane and tape over the little clover. He’d seen them on each of boys at one point or another but never really imagined he’d have one of his own.

“Y’alright?” Zayn asks, helping Niall sit up all the way, so he’s sat with his feet hanging off the edge of the table like a little kid at the doctor’s office.

“Yeah, just,” Niall doesn’t really have anything to say, just kinda wants to pull Zayn between his legs and kiss him cos he’s got ink on his gloved hands and his hair’s sort of messed up and his sleeves are rolled up past his elbows and he’s so grateful Zayn was here for this, that he did this for him. Zayn’s just looking up at Niall like he sort of knows what Niall’s thinking, places a gloved hand on his cheek and smiles.

“Breakfast?” he asks.

“Fuck _yes_ ,” is Niall’s quiet response and Zayn’s wrapping an arm around his shoulder, easing him off the table and walking with him like that back to the red and green living room, where _I’ll Be Home For Christmas_ is now playing softly.

***

It’s sort of the most perfect Christmas day Zayn remembers having in a long time. He’s not got much food in the house so they eat cookies for breakfast and watch _Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer_ and Niall lies in Zayn’s lap, pulling his sweater up every five minutes to check on his new tattoo. Zayn thinks Niall’s body is like a blank canvas or something, thinks he wants to use his new present just to turn Niall into a work of art. Thinks he might already be one though. Maybe he’s all pale skin and dyed hair and silly jumpers and Santa hats and maybe that’s fine. Maybe, like, one sick chest tattoo or something, though. Or scripture somewhere on his arms. Yeah, that’d look sick. Also Niall needs a screw, he really needs a screw…

“Are you even watching the movie, Zayn?” Niall laughs once he notices Zayn sort of looking Niall up and down in a way that Zayn realizes now as a bit hungry.

 “Not really,” Zayn admits.

“You missed the best line, Zayn! ‘Let’s be independent together’!” he imitates perfectly. Zayn smirks.

“That doesn’t really make sense,” Zayn says.

“Kinda does, though,” Niall shrugs.

Zayn thinks about it.

It kinda does.

***

They call their families. Zayn has a smoke. They order Chinese. They drink rum and eggnog. They kiss in front of the fire and it tastes like soy sauce and gingerbread. It’s snowing outside. Zayn can feel rum in his veins and Niall on his skin.

“Can I see my present for real, Zayn?” Niall asks eventually, as the sun sets and the fairy lights bring the room to life again. They’re sat cross-legged on Zayn’s carpet, empty Chinese boxes between them and _Merry Christmas Darling_ playing softly overhead through Zayn’s sound system.

Zayn blushes so intensely he’s sure Niall can feel his nervous panic. “Er….” Zayn readjusts himself awkwardly, runs his hand through his hair. He’s pretty sure he knows what Niall thinks is his present. He’s pretty sure he’s terrified about it. “Right, about that…,” he starts.

“I don’t think it’s weird or anything!” Niall assures him, reaching across the rubbish between them to place a hand on Zayn’s knee. “I thought it was cute, y’know? I love your art.”

Zayn grins in spite of himself. “Right, okay, yeah,” he says slowly, Niall’s reassurance sort of instantly calming him. As it does. “Hold on,” he says as he rises and disappears down to his graffiti room. He flicks the light on for the second time that day and grabs the only possible thing Niall could have thought was for him. Zayn thinks he should probably be honest, tell Niall what a shit friend he was for neglecting to get Niall anything. But he can’t afford to ruin this day now. _I mean it’s all the same anyway_ , he thinks; he might have given this particular piece to Niall at some point.

He takes one last look at the canvas before shaking his head resolutely, turning the light off and walking back to the living room, clutching the canvas against his chest.

“Right, so, you weren’t supposed to see it for a while, but I guess it’s Christmas and you’ve already looked anyway, so, like…,” Zayn rambles pathetically before giving up and anticlimactically turning the canvas around.

Zayn peers over the top of the canvas and looks at it instead of Niall. Reminds himself of the blue and red theme, of a cartoon-Niall sporting an ‘ _I Love Zayn Malik_ ’ t-shirt, captioned ‘One Direction’s Biggest Fan’. He’d thought it had been funny, had sort of been inspired by something a fan had said once. And it had been fun to imagine that Zayn would be Niall’s favourite. So, it was a joke. Just a harmless little joke.

A joke that-- by the look on his face that Zayn finally chances a glance at-- Niall seems to find absolutely amazing.

“I love it, Zayn. Genuinely it’s too good.” He’s smiling so stupidly wide and Zayn is smiling back in disbelief, relief and undeserved joy flooding over him.

“It was sort of just meant to be a joke,” Zayn says for what feels like the millionth time.

“It’s brilliant, seriously.”

Zayn is so thankful for Niall again then, for his pleasure in the little things, for being here with Zayn, for making Christmas okay.

**

“Can we--,” Niall’s looking up at Zayn all bashful-like, and sort of weakly gesturing between himself and Zayn.

Luckily Zayn gets it. “Yeah, yeah, course,” he’s saying as he hugs Niall around the shoulders, tucking his chin into Niall’s neck to kiss him there. Niall sighs slightly into Zayn’s hair as he readjusts them so they’re kissing before they can really look at each other first. Just sort of happens. It’s soft and slow and Zayn’s trying to convey as much of how grateful for Niall he is via his tongue along Niall’s bottom lip until he can feel Niall soak it up and smile against Zayn’s lips.

“Tattoo hurts,” Niall laughs against Zayn’s mouth, opening his eyes and sort of crouching to kiss Zayn’s chin and look up at him with a grin.

“Sorry bout that, babe,” Zayn shrugs, blowing on Niall’s nose in a way that feels uncharacteristic but that makes Niall laugh and straighten up again.

“Won’t hurt for long, right?” Niall asks.

“Assuming I didn’t like, do something wrong, or…”

Niall cringes. “Never mind, I’m not gonna think about it.”

“Happy Christmas, might have given you hepatitis.”

“Fuck off.”

Zayn smiles, and it’s all tongue-behind-his-teeth and dorky and Niall’s just sort of watching him with his hands around Zayn’s waist, as if the longer they stay plastered together the less likely it will be that Niall will eventually have to leave.

“Don’t really wanna go,” Niall says instead of kissing Zayn again.

“Gonna see you tomorrow.”

“Not that patient, Zayn,” Niall says, quoting himself from the night before so a flood of gingerbead-Bailey’s memories fill Zayn’s mind. He tucks them away, keeps them locked somewhere in his mind for next Christmas.

“You get your painting anyway,” Zayn offers.

“ _Yes_! Love my painting!” Niall dives in for the quickest little peck before he’s untangling himself from Zayn to admire the painting sitting by the front door with his now-empty suitcase. Zayn didn’t want him to take the decorations back yet. Maybe when they get back to London next. Maybe never.

“Put it over your bed, that’ll be really romantic,” Zayn half-jokes.

Niall laughs but doesn’t say no, pulls on his coat and slips on his boots without tying them up. He tucks the painting under one arm and the suitcase under the other.

“Best Christmas ever?” he asks.

“Definitely,” Zayn smiles.

Niall looks like he’s about to step out but stops himself, drops his painting and his suitcase and takes his Santa hat off to fit it snuggly on Zayn’s head instead.

“See ya tomorrow,” he says, winking as he places a kiss on Zayn’s cheek.

Zayn grins, bites his lip and shakes his head as Niall ducks away for real this time.

“Happy Christmas, mate,” they say at the same time and then they’re laughing, and it’s easy, so, so easy. Like Zayn’s singing, like breathing.

Zayn has no idea what’s gonna happen now, now that Niall’s worked his way back under his skin like Niall’s new tattoo, now that he can have Niall whenever he wants him, now that they’re going back on the road and Zayn is definitely asking for a repeat. But he thinks maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s just a happy Christmas and everything will be okay. Maybe he did find a new home and it’s just as good as the last one.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading darlings, please feel free to reach me anytime on [Tumblr](http://femmelinson.tumblr.com)  
> PS pls never try homemade tattooing at home Zayn and Niall are v dangerous boys they cannot be tamed but u should probably never do that lmao  
> xx


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